


Giving Up the Pretense

by Chronicler_of_Myriads



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Cas is still mad at Dean, DeanCas - Freeform, Destiel - Freeform, Destiel as nondramatic as it can get, Don't ask me where Sam is because I don't know, Failing grace, Fluff, Hospital Conversation, I was just sleepy and needed some heartfelt but casual confessions of love, Injured Dean, Just bros being bros but also in love no biggy, Love Confessions, M/M, No Smut, Sort of a oneshot but not really, Takes place before 15x09, gunshot wound, resolving an argument, this came to me in a dream
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-23
Updated: 2020-01-23
Packaged: 2021-02-27 04:20:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,491
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22370947
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Chronicler_of_Myriads/pseuds/Chronicler_of_Myriads
Summary: (Canon Divergence after 15x08)Dean is shot in the stomach, and Cas, with his grace failing, has to carry him to the hospital. Once there, the two have a conversation that partially makes up for the argument that ended with Cas leaving the bunker. The two decide to admit their romantic feelings towards each other.
Relationships: Castiel & Dean Winchester, Castiel/Dean Winchester
Comments: 7
Kudos: 83





	Giving Up the Pretense

**Author's Note:**

> Hi guys! I wrote this while still drowsy from sleep, so if it doesn't hold up to canon or it feels rushed, my apologies. I enjoy this, so hopefully you will too.

As Dean grew weaker, trying to drag him by keeping his arm pinned across Castiel's shoulders was no longer working. With a spontaneous burst of determination, Castiel dropped down in front of him and dragged him onto his back. Dean’s head and arms swung over Castiel’s shoulders and it took all of Castiel’s strength to keep hold of Dean’s legs. This man was heavy, and with his grace failing, Castiel didn’t know if his human body would be able to carry Dean for long. He might not even have the time, before Dean…passed.

Castiel wished more than ever that he still had his wings. Even if his power to heal was all but gone, if only he’d had his wings. 

Staggering along the road, Castiel tried not to think about how shallow Dean’s breathing was on his neck, or how very limp he was becoming. After all they had been through, for Dean to die when Castiel might have saved him was unacceptable. 

Step after step on the gravel road, closer to town every moment but still so far away. Castiel prayed for a car to come by, but there were none. Castiel just had to keep walking, keep going, so Dean would live.

When he realized that Dean had stopped breathing, Castiel jerked so sharply that Dean almost tumbled to the ground. It wouldn’t have mattered much if he had, because Castiel immediately dumped him in the road and knelt next to him, cupping his face with both hands and shouting his name.

Dean twitched, eyelids fluttering, and took a small breath. It wasn’t too late then. But Castiel could see by how very pale Dean’s face had gotten they weren’t going to make it to the hospital in time. Dean was going to die here in the street with only a fallen, useless angel who he didn’t even like at his side. Essentially alone.

Gritting his teeth, Castiel delved deep inside himself, summoning up every last dreg of power he could. He felt it trickling through him, so feeble, but there had to be enough to do something to help Dean. Castiel refused to think otherwise. 

Pressing his hand to Dean’s stomach over the gunshot wound, Castiel channeled his remaining grace into healing it. Stop the bleeding, at least. There wasn’t much he could do for the blood already lost, but at least he could buy them some time. 

When his power gave out entirely, Castiel gasped, sitting back on his heels and feeling more grounded to this planet than ever before. His grace was gone completely. He shoved down his panic and grief before it could overwhelm him. If Dean died, nothing mattered. Human or not, Castiel would save Dean Winchester or die trying.

Castiel looked down at Dean, and was relieved to see that Dean was breathing a little more steadily. Dean’s eyes opened briefly, and Castiel thought he might have whispered Castiel’s name. 

Castiel tried to smile, but it came out more as a grimace. Dean frowned, and Castiel hauled himself to his feet, dragging Dean once again onto his back. Castiel took a few faltering steps. Dean was heavier than ever, but at least Castiel had staved off the reaper for a little while longer. Cheating death was the oldest trick in the Winchester book. All Castiel could do was keep going.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Dean wasn’t sure when he really woke up. He remembered bright lights, white masked faces, urgent conversations. Cas was there at some point , but then he was gone. Dean knew he was still shot, because every bit of consciousness he had was centered around that agonizing spot in his abdomen. Dean had felt pain worse than this, but that made it no less pleasant. Especially when he knew that it was killing him. But there wasn’t enough of him left to really care. Nothing really mattered anymore.

It could have been minutes or days later when Dean realized that now he truly was awake. He was lying in a hospital bed, IV taped in his elbow and what felt like heart rate monitor sensors stuck to his chest. His whole body ached, but his stomach was strangely numb. A nurse stood at the foot of his bed, checking a clipboard. 

“Hello, Mr. Winchester,” she said. “How are you feeling?”

“I’ve been worse,” Dean grunted, shifting around under the covers and grimacing as pain suddenly blossomed across his stomach.

“We’ve taken care of the gunshot wound. I would suggest lying as still as you can,” the nurse suggested, hanging the clipboard on the end of the bed. 

“Yeah, sounds like a plan,” Dean said, settling down again.

“You need to rest for a while, but I thought you might like to know that a man’s been waiting outside since he brought you in. Says he’s your friend.”

Dean rubbed his face. “Was he wearing an ugly trench coat?”

The nurse smiled blandly. “He’s pretty beat up too, but refused any sort of treatment. He’s very eager to see you, but I highly suggest you don’t receive any visitors until you’ve gotten some rest.”

“Nah, I want to see him. We’ve got some things to talk about.”

The nurse stared him down, then shrugged. She pushed open the heavy door, and Dean heard her speaking to someone outside. A moment later, and she had slipped out the door, and in her place stood Cas, appearing stuck somewhere between relief and bitterness. 

“Hey man,” Dean said softly.

Cas came the rest of the way into the room and pulled over the chair standing against the wall. Cas’s face was badly bruised, and his bottom lip was split badly. He looked like he’d tried to clean blood off of his face but hadn’t done a great job. His hair was dirty and messy, and his clothes were torn. He’d taken off his trench coat and tucked it under his arm.

As he sat down, Dean murmured, “You’re gonna need a new suit.” 

Cas looked at him, but didn’t reply. 

Neither of them said anything for a few moments, until Cas asked, “Are you alright?”

“Been better. What about you? Nurse said you didn’t want treatment.”

“I’m fine,” Cas said shortly.

“You look like hell,” Dean retorted. Cas glared at him.

The awkward silence resumed, and Dean berated himself for only having seen Cas for a couple of minutes and already starting an argument. 

“The nurse also said you brought me here,” Dean prompted lamely.

“Yes.”

“Thanks.”

“You were dying. What choice did I have?”

Dean half-shrugged. “You could have let me die.”

Cas turned on him, glowering. “Would you have preferred that?”

“No,” Dean replied. “For once, no.”

They sat in silence again. This was getting old. Dean tried to think of something to say, but Cas abruptly stood up and made for the door.

“Cas, wait.” Dean called. Cas stopped, back turned. “Don’t leave. Don’t leave me here alone,” Dean added. 

Cas looked at him over his shoulder, and Dean saw something of the old Castiel return to his eyes. Sympathy and compassion. Dean knew he didn’t deserve it anymore, not after all the shit he’d said to Cas. No friendship is strong enough to overcome that. Dean expected Cas to shun him. But right now, all he wanted was his old friend back, and he didn’t care if he sounded pathetic. Everyone has their weak moments.

Cas looked at him, and Dean was relieved when he saw Cas’s concern overcome his anger. Cas sat down again.

Dean took a deep breath, cringing at the pain, and ran his fingers through his hair. “I’m sorry, man. For everything. You deserve better.”

Cas wouldn’t look at him. “Sometimes I can’t tell why I do this anymore.”

Dean felt like he’d been slapped in the face. “So why’d you save my life?”

Cas’s head jerked up. “What? That’s not what I meant. I—” Cas cut himself off, shoulders slumping a little. “I would never let you die. Never. You were once the most important thing to me, and no matter what you do, you can’t change that.”

Dean snorted. “Then your priorities suck, man.” Dean played with the medical tape holding the IV in the crook of his elbow. “You’re a much better guy than I am. Why did you even stick around, after what I said to you?” 

“Because you needed me. Because I couldn’t leave you.” Cas looked around the room helplessly. “I tried, many times. I was angry, and hurt, and I had every reason to leave you behind and never look back. But then you needed my help, and I realized that I wasn’t capable of turning my back on you. I’ve cared too much about you for too long.”

Dean felt so tired. He knew that Cas would say some sort of co-dependent self-depriving bullshit like this. He was tired of the charade, and so much crap had gone down between them over the years that Dean didn’t fear the consequences anymore.

“Are you in love with me, Cas?”

Cas seemed to be as tired as Dean, because he responded without hesitation. “I could ask you the same question.”

Dean sighed. “I dunno anymore man. If you’d asked me five years ago, I would’ve beat the crap out of you. But these past couple years have changed things. You died, I got possessed, we fought, and I realized that nothing matters. Who gives a crap what I feel when we’re constantly trapped in this cycle of bullshit? What I feel doesn’t change anything. I think I’ve loved you since the beginning, but I’m done denying it now.”

Dean tried to gauge Cas’s reaction. He couldn’t really tell what he was thinking. Relief, maybe? Definitely still anger, but Dean didn’t expect that to go away anytime soon. Maybe not ever. But with  
this new sense of nihilism, Dean realized that any chance he’d had at happiness was long gone. Anything they said to each other in the aftermath was just dust in the wind.

So Dean moved on. “Cas, when you were trying to heal me yesterday, why didn’t it work?”

“It worked enough to get you here,” Cas replied stiffly.

Dean shook his head. “You looked like you were in pain. You said a while ago that your power was fading.”

Cas nodded slightly. “That was the last of it…It’s gone now.”

“Oh man, I’m sorry.”

“I’ve been human before.”

“Yeah,” Dean retorted, “And it almost killed you.”

“That was different,” Cas breathed. “My grace was taken from me. This time, it just…seeped away.”

“So you’re stranded on earth again.”

“I haven’t lived in heaven for years. This is hardly a big change.”

“I’m sorry,” Dean said again.

“It wasn’t your fault.”

“But I should have listened when you were trying to tell me,” Dean countered. “I know nothing can change what I did to you…what I said. I can’t fix it. But I am sorry. You didn’t deserve any of it.”

Cas sighed. “Dean—” 

“No,” Dean cut him off. “Listen. You’re what, several billion years old?”

Cas rolled his eyes. “Roughly.”

Dean continued. “Billions, old as the universe, and you gave up everything you ever knew up for me and Sam. And we treated you like crap. I treated you like crap.”

“I did it for you, Dean, not Sam.”

“And that makes it worse. I’ve never been worth it, man, and I’ve just proven it.”

Cas sat back in his chair, staring at the floor. Dean could see he wasn’t going to get a reply out of him, and he was split between relief and remorse. He knew he couldn’t fix this, but damn, he wanted to. He wanted Cas to be happy. He tried to remember if he ever had been.

“You look exhausted,” Dean said.

“I think I need to sleep,” Cas muttered.

“Do you and Sam have a hotel room yet?”

Cas shook his head. “Sam’s not here. I brought you here myself.”

“You’re alone?” Dean asked, saddened. Cas needed a friend now more than anything.

Cas stayed silent.

“Cas, go get a hotel.”

“I’m fine,” he grunted.

Dean gestured in disbelief. “You’re about to collapse, man.”

Cas looked like he was going to clam up again, but then he choked out, “I’m not going to leave you.”

Oh. Dean remembered asking him not to. Don’t leave me here alone. Dean cursed himself for being selfish again. He wanted the company, but Cas needed sleep.

“Cas, you don’t need to stay for me.”

“I’m not. I’m staying for me.”

Dean stared out at the foot of his bed. He supposed Cas could try to fall asleep in his chair, but Dean knew firsthand how uncomfortable hospital bedsides were. He got an idea, hoping Cas wouldn’t be stubborn enough not to take it.

“Come here then,” Dean said, sliding over in the bed.

Cas looked at him in confusion, either too tired or too Castiel to figure out what Dean was suggesting.

Dean patted the mattress next to him. “The nurse was here just a little while ago. She probably won’t be back for a couple of hours.”

Cas still looked unsure.

“C’mere,” Dean prompted. “If you lay on your side we’ll both fit.”

Cas gave up, standing and settling himself on the edge of the bed. It was almost like they’d rehearsed it. Cas moved slowly so Dean had time to adjust, and kicked his legs up, laying on his stomach half on top of Dean’s chest while Dean crammed himself against the other side of the bed. Cas propped his cheek on Dean’s shoulder and draped his arm across Dean’s stomach, being careful of his bullet wound. 

After a moment, Cas took Dean’s other hand, interlacing their fingers. Dean wrapped his free arm around Cas, so they were both holding each other. Cas’s eyes were already closed, but Dean knew he wasn’t asleep yet. 

They hadn’t fixed their problems, far from it, but maybe they had taken a step in the right direction. Cas obviously seemed to still trust Dean enough to fall asleep next to him. 

“Dean?” Cas asked, his voice muffled a little by Dean’s hospital gown.

“Yeah?”

“Did you say that you love me?”

Dean smiled softly. “I love you, Cas.”

“I love you too, Dean,” Cas whispered.

Those words hit Dean a little harder than he expected. So much for “nothing matters.” Apparently damning the consequences was not quite as easy as Dean thought. He realized that there were tears in his eyes, and he took his hand away from Cas’s waist to wipe them away. 

“You can fall asleep, Cas. You’re safe,” was all Dean could croak out. 

Cas settled again Dean a bit, holding him more tightly. “You’re so warm,” he murmured, before falling silent.

“Yeah,” Dean replied, so softly he wasn’t sure Cas even heard it. But looking at him, he might have already fallen asleep.


End file.
